


Are You a Puddle Full of Detriment?

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad Flirting, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who should be more embarrassed -- Kaner for trying to pick Sharpy up in the men's room at Harry Caray's, or Sharpy for going for it? This is the question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You a Puddle Full of Detriment?

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from the pearl jam song entitled "get some." imp betaed this practically before i finished asking if she'd mind betaing.

"Hey, Sharpy." They're in the men's room at Harry Caray's, and Kaner won't shut up. "Hey. Hey, Sharpy." Sharpy shakes off, zips up, sighs, and turns around.

Kaner's pants and underwear are around his ankles. Sharpy glances up at his face, and he winks.

"Pull your pants up, Kaner," Sharpy says.

Kaner sulks. "You don't want my dick?"

Sharpy closes his eyes. "We're in the _men's room_ ," he says. "In _public._ Did you know they advertise this as your favorite place to go after games?"

"Well, it is," Kaner says. He makes no move to pull up his khakis; his dick is bobbing at half-mast.

Sharpy feels like he's lost control of his life. "Do you really want me to do stuff to your dick where a random fan might come in?"

Kaner looks like he's thinking about it. "It's be pretty annoying if someone was all, 'Can I have your autograph?' and I'm all, 'Getting my dick sucked, here!'" he admits.

"My point," Sharpy says, even though it wasn't.

"So, my place or yours?"

"Mine," Sharpy says. "But for the love of God, pull up your pants."

***

It takes a while to make their excuses and leave, long enough for Sharpy to have another beer, so by the time they're in a cab on the way to Sharpy's, he's reached the level of tipsiness where everything feels good. The seat feels soft, his shirt cuffs rubbing against his arms feel all tingly, and Kaner's hand on his thigh... wait a minute. "No," he says. "We're in a taxi."

"No kidding," Kaner says. "I still want to touch your boner."

That sounds incredibly good to Sharpy. His face must do something encouraging, because Kaner's hand slides up to his dick. Why was he arguing against this again?

The cab driver coughs, and Sharpy looks up guiltily. He catches his eye in the mirror and thinks, _Oh, right._ "Seriously," he says, putting his hand on Kaner's. "Not until we're inside."

"Can we hold hands, then?" Kaner asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

"Are we five?" Sharpy asks, but he lets Kaner hold his hand anyway. He starts to regret it when Kaner starts to stroke his hand like he's giving him a handjob. A _hand_ -handjob. Oh, God.

"See? Holding hands is nice," Kaner says

Before Sharpy can respond, the cab pulls up in front of his building, and the cabbie coughs again. Sharpy pulls a wad of cash out of his wallet, checks to make sure there aren't any fifties, and hands it over. "Thanks," he says. "Keep the change."

"Deadspin is not your friend," Kaner adds helpfully as they slide out of the back.

"Smooth," Sharpy says.

"That's me," Kaner says. Then he kicks Sharpy in the shin. "Now let's go inside and bang."

"Well," Sharpy says. "How can I turn that down?"

They get inside, and for a moment, Sharpy just looks at Kaner. Kaner is a little flushed, and he's been biting on his lower lip, so it's all red. It would look like that if they'd been making out, too. Sharpy wants to.

"Hey," Kaner says, "we don't have to --" and Sharpy steps forward and shuts him up the best way he knows how.

Kaner's an enthusiastic kisser, which doesn't surprise him even a little -- tongue tangling with Sharpy's, hands in his back pockets, making happy little sounds like Sharpy's an ice cream cone. Sharpy feels like he's working to catch up, like he hasn't since he was a goofy-looking kid.

After a bit, Kaner pulls back, and God, his mouth looks even more obscene than before. "So," he says, "you do want to, right?"

Sharpy just stares at him for a moment -- how does he do that? -- then says, "Want to what?", innocently.

Kaner makes a huffy sound. "Sex," he says. "You want to have sex, right?"

"Yes," Sharpy says. "I'm just fucking with you."

"I want to fuck with _you_ ," Kaner says.

"Okay," Sharpy says. "I can get behind that."

Kaner leans in again and crushes their mouths together. Sharpy puts one hand in Kaner's hair and the other on his ass and pulls them closer together, so he can grind against Kaner's dick. "Oh my god," Kaner says into Sharpy's mouth.

"I'm gonna make you say that again," Sharpy says. "Over and over."

"Awesome," Kaner says breathlessly.

Sharpy considers taking this to the bedroom. On the other hand, the couch is right there. "Come on," he says, and backs up until he feels the couch behind him and sits down. Kaner comes with him, landing so he's straddling Sharpy's thighs.

"Good idea," Kaner says, and he moves down to kiss the underside of Sharpy's jaw. "God, you're hot," he says between kisses.

"Thanks," Sharpy says. He slides his hands into Kaner's pants so he can grab a handful of ass. It makes Kaner make a groaning sound and rock back into his hands, then forward again, straining to rub their dicks together.

"You need to take off your pants. Like -- now," Kaner says.

"You're kind of in the way," Sharpy points out.

Kaner snorts and moves to the other end of the couch. "Put your feet up," he demands. Sharpy does, and Kaner yanks his pants and underwear off. "There," he says smugly, "now I can blow you."

"Ulp," Sharpy says, almost swallowing his tongue.

"What, you'd rather not?" Kaner sits back on his heels.

"No," Sharpy says. "I mean, yes. Yes, please."

"Cool." Kaner bends over, and oh, God, his mouth is warm and wet and perfect on Sharpy's dick. He bobs his head, and Sharpy tangles one hand in his curly hair.

Kaner pulls off and licks at the base of his dick and his balls. "Can I fuck you after?" he asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer, just goes back to blowing him.

"Yeah, sure," Sharpy says. "I have -- oh, God -- stuff in the --" He's never going to make a coherent sentence again. Kaner is killing all his brain cells. That's going to be his excuse for coming without warning.

Kaner swallows, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins. "Nice," he says.

"Sorry," Sharpy says, once he's caught his breath.

"No worries," Kaner says. "You were saying about stuff?"

Sharpy trips over his feet getting to the bathroom to find it, but he manages to get the condom on and the lube where it needs to go without incident, so he's going to count it as a win.

Then he's got Kaner all spread out under him, pink and panting, with his legs up around his ears, and really, Sharpy is pretty happy with the way his life is going, all things considered.

"Remember your lines?" he asks Kaner, lining his dick up.

"My _lines?_ " Kaner asks incredulously, then says, "Oh, right -- oh my god, oh my god," in a terrible attempt at deadpan.

"Just checking." Sharpy grins at him and thrusts in, and wow, that's a look he doesn't mind seeing on Kaner's face.

"Oh my god," Kaner says in a totally different voice, "you're even beautiful when you're making your O-face? That's just -- oh my god -- unfair."

"Oh, shut up," Sharpy says, and kisses him to make his point. Or because he wants to. It's all the same, really.

Kaner kisses him back and wedges one hand between them to jerk off. That makes it a competition, Sharpy's pretty sure, so he kicks it up a notch, reveling in how great Kaner's ass and mouth are.

Pretty soon, the race is over -- Sharpy wins, of course, but not by much -- and they wind up in a sweaty heap on the couch. Kaner's drooling on Sharpy's neck. He manages to rouse himself enough to say, "I have the best ideas," then snuggles back up to Sharpy.

"You're not wrong," Sharpy admits, and grins up at the ceiling.


End file.
